


For being here

by Goombella123



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of sucide, i promise it's not that bad though, loosly based off their harvest convo, mentions of mentioning things, mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:30:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo has a nightmare, and it shakes him. He should probably talk to someone about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For being here

The rain shouldn’t be pounding on his tent this hard. It was overwhelming him. The sound of the raindrops chanting and getting louder. Like the roar of a battle- in his mind’s eye he saw the downpour fall in the red of enemy soldiers. A swing of his sword, a twist of his blade. He’d drawn blood, not from a risen, but from an axe-wielding ruffian, whose life still lingered at the end of his cold, scratched steel.  
  
The rough and wet was hurting his head and crawling into his stomach. Soaking through the canvas and holing up inside him to rot.  
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking- why wouldn’t they stop shaking?- and Inigo felt nauseous to his core. The copper tang in his mouth was the only thing that felt real- surely he would have been killed by now? And the brigand he’d skewered- perhaps this feeling was Inigo’s karma for taking a life. This gross feeling of horror rising from his depths.  
  
That brute was far from innocent, he reassured himself. A man with years of blood on his hands.  
  
And Inigo was forced to his level.  
  
It couldn’t be avoided, but his stomach curled inwards none the less.  
  
He felt his body go numb, and he jerked upright, eyes flicking open to the blackness of his tent. The rain screamed at him, bore down through his scalp and coated his brain. Thick, like blood, it rose in his throat, and as he flung open the canvas flap, he retched. The ground muddy to meet him.  
…  
Disgusting. Pathetic, even. He should be over this by now, and yet it was creeping into his subconscious, his dreams. He shouldn’t have had such a childish nightmare, but he did.  
  
The absolute horror gripping Inigo’s gut was real, though. Visions of the distant past he knew how to deal with- dreams of reliving the deaths of his parents or watching the massacre of hundreds by waves of risen. Those dreams he was no stranger to, and though they were no more pleasant, he at least knew that most of the others from his future understood the way he felt, had seen the things he’d seen. But those memories of blood on his own hands, the black mark now resting next to his name- memories of being so, so alone in that first month of surviving here, and being so hollow and tired- those memories were an assault on his conscience, and it didn’t seem to bother anyone else but him.  
  
Maybe he was just weak.  
  
Even if they were the faces of his enemy, Inigo couldn’t stand to look upon his kills as a victory. Not when said enemy felt the same fear of death that he did. He seemed to be the only one who couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his job was to take lives.  
  
It stopped raining a while ago, but Inigo was still soaked. In sweat, and in mud, and a bit of his own bile. The clothes he was wearing were filthy- he’d have to clean them himself, since there was no way he could be spared new ones.  
  
That river’s nearby, he thought absently, and he headed there.  
\---  
Inigo was almost positive that this part of the river bank was his secret little area. A clearing disguised by branches, perfect for keeping out prying eyes who would spy on his attempts at dancing, or, as in this case, his bathing. (read: Gerome and Minerva. Why they insisted on watching from the shadows was beyond him.)  
  
Though the nausea had subsided and the rain had stopped, Inigo would still need some time alone to iron out his frazzled nerves. The bank was quiet, with only the soft breeze that carried away the rain clouds to listen for. He took a foot into the water- it was cold, but something about that was comforting. The rest of him followed into the clear, past his knees, his hips and finally up to his shoulders, where he squatted a little to get the water to just past his neck. He sighed, the sound making bubbles in the water, before he straightened out his legs and took in his surroundings.  
  
Luck be with him, no masks or wyverns were to be seen tonight. He listened instead, and heard above the gurgling river a quiet crunch of footsteps approaching. Inigo grunted, annoyed, and dipped back down into the river as if it would disguise him.  
  
“…Hoy there, Inigo!” the footsteps called.  
  
Inigo mentally groaned.  
  
Owain.  
  
For what in Naga’s name he was here for, Inigo had no clue. How he even knew of this spot was something he didn’t want to know the answer to, and being shirtless, frustrated, and almost completely and blissfully submerged in water, he wasn’t really prepared to entertain Owain’s flamboyant theatrics at the moment.  
  
Maybe if he puked again, he’d scare him off. Who knows.  
  
Electing not to reply to his greeting, Inigo shuffled out of the river and onto the riverbed, where he hovered. The ground was still slick with mud from the rain, and he contemplated that before he sat, avoiding eye contact.  
…  
If Inigo had hoped that his icy reception would scare Owain off, he was wrong. The blonde moved to stand in front of him, his face hooded with concern. He gave him a once over- his bedhair and his half-naked body- and then he spoke.  
  
“….You’re not bathing at four am for no good reason, are you?”  
  
At least he’s speaking like a normal person for once, the mercenary noted. The tired fog of his brain was beginning to catch up with him. Or maybe that was hypothermia.  
  
Inigo exhaled, his shoulders heavy. He halfheartedly quirked a smile, though it was incredibly unconvincing.  
  
“Well, if you want a reason, you can blame my crippling depression.”  
  
“Uh…?”  
  
“Fifteen- FIFTEEN girls rejected me the other day,” He began, “Its tearing me up. Can you believe that-”  
  
“Stop.” Owain cut him off. “Just… that’s not your reason, is it?” He asked, terse and concerned. There was a little plea in his voice as he ran a hand through his hair, and Inigo cringed guiltily.  
  
.“…No, its not. I’m not very convincing, am I?” He smiled, somewhat lopsided.  
  
“…. I knew something was off as soon as I saw you. It’s ok.” Owain reassured, placing a hand cautiously on his naked shoulder as he sat beside, like the contact was going to burn him. His brows were furrowed in worry.  
  
Inigo grimaced. He didn’t want Owain to be concerned for him, lest the guy knot his eyebrows together in permanent discontent.  
  
“Gods, you look like a walking corpse, Inigo.”  
  
Inigo scoffed “You did say it was about four am. Only risen are out this late, so that must make me one of them.”  
  
Owain winced.  
  
“…Do you want to talk about this? Whatever’s bothering you? Or are you just here to make self-depreciating jokes?”  
  
“I want to drown myself, honestly. That might be nice.”  
  
The grip on his shoulder tightened protectively. The river burbled in front of them.  
  
“…Inigo.”  
  
“Shush, that was a joke.”  
  
“It wasn’t funny.” Owain said sharply. Inigo turned to look at him- his eyes stern and sad. Owain sighed.  
  
“If you don’t want me here, its fine. I’ll go-“  
  
Inigo took a shaky breath “-No. Stay, please. You’re helping.”  
  
Owain’s grip on this shoulder slackened, but besides that he didn’t move. The two of them kind of sat like that, for a few cold moments- Inigo, still air-drying, began to shiver a little, and Owain instinctively pulled him closer. He was smart enough to wear furs like a feroxian, and it kept him warm. Kept them both warm, now that they were sharing in Owain’s heat, and Inigo sighed.  
  
“…When we visited that festival in the outrealms, you… asked me how many people I’d killed, since getting here.” He began tentatively.  
Owain shuffled nervously.  
  
“We both lost count by then.” He murmured.  
  
Inigo nodded solemnly, and continued.  
  
“The first life I took… when I said that it nearly crushed me, I- I wasn’t just being… hyperbolic.”  
  
He hung his head, his voice wavering slightly.  
  
“It’s a miracle I made it back to the shepherds alive, to be honest.”  
  
Owain curled his fingers.  
  
“...Don’t tell me you-“  
  
Inigo chuckled darkly. “Nearly took my own life? I considered it, once. Though even if I’m here now, I’m still not as peachy as I pretend to be. I’m still not ok, sometimes.” He admitted, his voice small in the darkness, disappearing into the air.  
  
Inigo felt Owain remove himself, the warmth fleeing, and he looked across to face him. The myrmidon was staring off to the side, refusing to make eye contact as he muttered, his arms wrapping around his knees. It was slightly unnerving.  
  
“That wasn’t what you were doing here… was it? You weren’t actually going to drown yourself.”  
  
Inigo swallowed. “No. Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about it.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Silence again, but colder. Inigo wished that Owain hadn’t moved away.  
  
Like he had scared him off.  
  
Owain said something under his breath, and Inigo struggled to catch it.  
  
“-damaged.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Owain raised his voice slightly “I said that you came back alive, but damaged. Fractured. That time alone, whoever’s lives you took, it changed you. Whatever. I know the feeling, Inigo, is what I’m trying to say.” Owain sighed. “I’m… not sure if we’ll ever be ok, to be honest. But that’s just it.” He took a deep breath, and stared Inigo down.  
  
“You’re not the only one here who’s been through hell, remember? I… I thought you knew that.” He finished, voice trailing off with a look of hurt.  
Inigo inhaled sharply.  
  
“I’m…. aware, I just-“  
  
Breathe.  
  
“It’s easy to forget.” Inigo said. “…I woke up just the because of a nightmare. About the first life I took, and about being separated from the shepherds again. And it’s stupid, but it was awful. I hate feeling like this.”  
  
Owain was quiet for a moment as he thought. He took a deep breath, and unfurled himself.  
“…I get it. You’ve been off for ages, and it probably built up into an awful dream like this.” he said. “That dream isn’t real though, Inigo. It’s fine.”  
Inigo sighed, his eyes lidded “…I guess so.” He said, quiet.  
  
“…Hey.”  
  
Inigo looked up. Owain faced him.  
  
“When I say that I know how you feel, I mean it. So try not to despair so much that you get nightmares again. Just… come to me. We’ll talk. And I’ll do the same for you. Promise?” Owain asked with a smile, small and reassuring.  
  
Inigo cracked a wobbly grin back at him.  
  
“…Owain the Legendary Wordsmith, weaving a tale to hide his woes. Of course you’d know exactly how I feel. It’s a promise, my friend.” He said, and he really truly appreciated it.  
  
Owain’s smile grew as he chuckled “Your flirting isn’t any different to my poetic spiel.” he remarked. “We’re both pretending to be something we’re not. It’s impossible to lie around me.” He said with bravado, and Inigo snorted in amusement.  
  
That snort turned into a sneeze, which brought on a new bout of shivers, and Owain’s eyes widened, remembering that Inigo was still semi-damp and shirtless on a post-rainy night.  
  
“Crap, you’re probably freezing out here” Owain remarked, and he bit his lip.  
  
Inigo huffed. “Well I was actually rather warm until you moved.” He bit back.  
  
Owain tried to protest, and Inigo sniffled, still cold. Feeling bad, Owain shuffled a little closer to him.  
  
“There. Is that better?”  
  
“… Only slightly.”  
  
Owain shuffled closer a bit more.  
  
“…Now?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Owain sighed in exasperation.  
  
He shuffled all the way over to Inigo, until he was nearly in the other man’s lap, and he swung his arm back over both of Inigo's shoulders. Owain was still warm, and the mercenary smiled.  
  
Until Owain’s other arm went around his waist as he pressed them together into a tight hug.  
  
“..Oh.”  
  
His arms awkwardly pinned at his sides, Inigo gave Owain's sides a little tap with his fingers, and he loosed his grip just enough for Inigo’s limbs to slip free. He could feel the blonde man smiling into his neck, his breath hot on his flesh, and a small, breathy chuckle escaped him.  
  
“Hey, Owain?” Inigo murmured.  
  
Owain hummed in response, his voice a sweet vibration through his skin. Cautious, Inigo threaded a hand through his hair, to rest at the base of his neck, and he touched his lips to the top of his messy blonde hair.  
  
“Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> really old draft that turned into a longer thing.
> 
> If any of you reading this don't ship inigo x owain or laslow x odin i implore you to read their awakening supports. I can't do these two enough justice.


End file.
